blue
by Wonders of Chocolates
Summary: Hiyama Kiyoteru is getting left behind, isn't he?


_This story is in Kiyoteru's POV._

I hated the colour blue.

Every time I'm on the edge of the cliff looking down, I would see the deep waters cascading the dark blue hue and as they echoed a ghoul-like howl, they terrified me. The feeling of betrayal was always there as my eyes searched down to the waves devouring each other and crashing into the rocky cliff. It felt like someone was standing behind me, getting ready to push me off the cliff and I would fall straight into those blue waters; drowning me, suffocating me, torturing me as the waters filled up my lungs, stretching and ripping my chest open as I tried to scream out loud for someone to save me from the pain, but my voice could only come out as silent muffles. Numbness would take over my entire body until I reached the bottom of the sea, losing consciousness. Though it was just imagery, I could feel it mocking my thin skin.

I always had a problem with trusting people, moreover making friends with the other children running around the neighbourhood when I was younger; the feeling of betrayal would always impede me from communicating. This fear of mine would always build a wall around me as a backstop from the society and it taught me nightmares. Vivid images of treachery appeared before I muttered even a word towards a person.

Betrayal will always come to you unexpectedly. We would never know a person's feeling for redemption in their unspoken emotions and thoughts. Once they showed its fangs to you, it will gnaw you like a million daggers going through your body continuously; in my perception, anyway, as cants as it was heard. I couldn't explain it further into meaningless words that we spoke ever so unpretentiously.

Annihilation of my fear was almost impossible; but as time passed by, I learnt to conquer my fear, though just a little. It was an achievement for me, still. I could socialise easier without questioning my trust with people and I could lead my life better as a person. When I tried reminiscing back during my childhood years, I never sufficed to obtain the answer to my question; why do I fear in the first place? Was I feeling a bit too insecure, too doubtful of being around people who were anonymous or weren't as the thoughts of their terrifying acts came flooding through my head? As the questions trailed continuously, the feeling of deceit lived on every time I stood upon the edge of the cliff looking down.

I hated the colour blue.

I rose up on my bed on one late afternoon, my sheets were thrown over to the floor and my body was sweating. The summer heat prickled my skin and I rolled to the other side of the bed. It was boiling hot and my head was on fire. The air-conditioner was left open ever since summer started but the intense heat would just not leave me. I sat up, hanging my head down low to endure the pain in my head. I carefully stood up and walked to the bathroom, opening the door and I looked at the mirror hanging against the tiled wall. I stared at my reflection; a man wearing a creased white shirt and ruffled brown hair; obviously from this sight, I was absolutely knackered and did not give a slightest attention to my appearance. Not that I cared but… As I eyed myself further, I saw blue.

It was a blur motion for me. The impact of my hand with the glass was piercing; the shards were left on the ground smashing into tinier pieces, my knuckles was throbbing and thick red liquid trailed down between my fingers, dripping into the sink and slipping through the holes of the drain. My eyes scanned the blood at my right hand bluntly. I turned the tap open, letting the water flow on my hand rinsing the blood off and; unfortunately, the water was tainted in red, as well. I grabbed some aid and bandages I kept in the drawer and placed it gently over the unsightly scar. I lifted my head up and saw my reflection again. The ocean blue tint swirling around my irises were what frustrated me. Had fate played around with me, pulling my strings as I hopelessly suffered from their hands?

I hated them, the colour blue.

The clock ticks but was muffled. I laid my head on top of the pillow, swearing silently as the ringing sounds came back to me. That annoying screeching noise had found homely inside of my head and distant memories collided with the nerve connected to it. It kept coming back to me, the cliff and the wide blue ocean, the cold salty wind and the splashing sounds of the waves; it was a dream and nightmare manifest.

'The light blue sky was I; the deep blue ocean was you. We may have our differences but we have our similarities, too' – There was something about those phrases that absolutely ignited my repugnance. Lies concealed as the truth of comfort often been thrown into my naked face, thousands of red eyes boring into my soul every time I twitched a muscle, silence of the room meant words of mockery as everyone left with no traces of footprints on the floor, no traces of existence inside the room, and only white walls stared at me as it dried to blight.

I guess…

I'm just pathetic, useless…

"Look, I'm sorry, Kiyo. I've been climbing the stairs to stardom but I couldn't bring you along with me," he mumbled to my sleeping figure. "I just wish people would stop comparing me with you." He sighed and brushed he blue hair with his hand. He leaned back to his chair and stared at the ceiling.

Images splashed in front of my eyes once again, **betrayal**.

I don't know whether I should forgive him or not.

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_I'm bored. Whelp. Time to go and eat._


End file.
